Moonage Daydream
by cluelessclown
Summary: Twenty-three vignettes of Robb and Talisa throughout the years. Modern!AU.


1. **A glance**

His eyes flash across the party, tiredly searching for someone who is sober enough to share a decent conversation. He's twenty, he's a Political Sciences student — but most importantly, he's a goddamn dumb young man with a David Bowie t-shirt who cannot bother getting drunk with his friends.

And that's when he sees her — a bundle of black hair and dark skin standing amidst of the crowd. He stays there, gazing quietly, wondering whether should he go up to her and start some sort of bland conversation that might lead to something else. She's pretty, he can tell that much. She's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, unlike most of the more fancily dressed girls at the party.

_Damn. Isn't that Ziggy Stardust on her t-shirt?_

He curiously peeks over his Coke cup and nods to himself. Ziggy Stardust indeed.

_Well, it's just worth the try, Robb._

2.** A meeting**

"Hey."

The girl looks up from her phone to find Robb Stark smiling at her, a cup of Coke and vodka in his hand.

"Hi," she says, her eyebrows rising quietly as she pockets her phone. She seems to study him for a moment before adding, "Anything the matter?"

Robb can't help but bite his lip upon hearing her voice. It sounds so soft, so tender — he only realizes that the girl is expecting an answer when she coughs lightly and offers him a small smile.

"Oh. Oh, yeah," he smiles gently, nodding his head. "Yeah, I'm — I'm Robb."

"Really? I thought you were David Bowie." The girl nodded her head towards his t-shirt, an amused smile on her face. "I'm Talisa. Nice to meet you."

Robb places his cup on the table, and with that they engage into a conversation that will last for the rest of the night.

3. **A thought**

He sees her sitting with her friends Gilly and Arianne at the campus library, only a couple of days later. She smiles at him; he almost immediately grins back. They don't share a word, but oddly enough Robb seems to feel happy for the rest of the day.

_I might like her_, he thinks as he struts down the stairs. _Just a teensy little bit._

4. **A text**

_Wanna come to the pub for a while?_

He stares down at his phone screen as he waits for an answer. It's been a week since they first met, and he hasn't managed to text her until a moment ago. A slight smile flickers on his face as he notices how she goes online. Come on, typing, typing . . .

_Sure! Let's meet there in an hour xx_

A broad grin appears on his face as he texts a brief "okay!" and pockets his phone. Sitting on the couch in front of him, Jon and Theon observe him with an amused frown on their faces.

"What makes you so happy, Stark?" asks Theon.

"What?" His eyebrows rise, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"I bet he's found a new Noel Gallagher t-shirt on Amazon," says Jon, a funny smile on his face. "He's happy, just let him be."

Robb smiles as he glances down at his phone again.

He isn't happy, he is _completely and utterly gutted_.

5. **A song**

_Some might say that sunshine follows thunder, go and tell it to the man who cannot shine . . ._

Robb can't believe his ears when he recognizes the tune being played at the pub.

"I can't believe this," he chuckles. He takes another sip from his beer and looks back at her, his blue eyes almost glistening at the sight of those big, brown orbs. "This is probably my favourite song. Heck, Oasis has been my favourite band since I was fifteen."

"Really? I've always been more of a Blur person." She watches how his eyebrows rise in surprise and she can't help but shake her head, holding back a giggle. "Only joking, Mr. Stark."

"Don't call me that. Makes me sound like the bloody superhero," he chuckles before downing his beer. He cannot help but notice that he finds the way she taps her fingers against the cold surface of the bottle almost endearing.

What he does not know is that the girl is struggling not to tell him that his laugh is probably the most charming one she's ever heard.

6. **A nickname**

"Hey, Mr. Stark," she says when she sees him the following morning, on her way to one of her Anatomy lessons. One of her hands swiftly rises up to his reddish curls, a lopsided smile on her face as she ruffles his hair.

"Morning, Ziggy Stardust," he chuckles, rolling his eyes. His fingers barely touch her arm, but the mere flicker of his fingertips against her skin makes brings a smile to his face.

He knows it's just a friendly nickname, but the next time that he listens to _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars_ he cannot hold back a smile that seems eager to settle on his lips.

7. **A truth**

They're sitting together under one of the campus gardens' trees. She is reading _Tender is the night_, leaning against his shoulder as he distractedly scans through his phone's music. They're sharing his earphones, listening to a mix of his favourite songs by Oasis.

He scratches his reddish beard thoughtfully, mumbling the lyrics to _Don't look back in anger_. She smiles.

He runs his fingers through his bronze-coloured curls, just as _Shakermaker_ starts playing. She smiles again.

By the time that _Wonderwall_ comes on, he's clearing his throat as he thinks of something that has been itching at the back of his head since he first saw her. And she's rubbing her cheek with her hand, as though trying to scratch off the blush that seems to have settled on her face.

_You're such a bloody idiot. And you're so bloody in love with her._

What he hasn't noticed is that Talisa has dropped her book and that she is, in fact, fixing her eyes at him with the same look on her face.

8. **A question**

At first, it does not come out as a proper question. He mumbles the lyrics to the song, his eyes still somewhat sheepish and reluctant to meet hers.

"Have you ever been in love, Talisa?"

The girl looks at him with a somewhat amused expression on her face. "I don't know. I most certainly hadn't been until a few weeks ago, I suppose."

"Oh." He nods quietly. His brow furrows lightly and he eyes her carefully. "Are you now?"

Talisa shrugs, a small smile on her face. "I wouldn't go as far as saying that I'm in love — but yes, kind of."

Robb nods again, wondering if placing his arm around her shoulder would imply going too far. "And say, Ziggy Stardust — do I know this bloke?"

The look on her face tells him that the question he has just made was either truly unexpected or tuly exciting for Talisa.

9. **An answer**

She grasps his David Bowie t-shirt and, pulling him closer, tenderly presses her lips against his.

"Of course you do, you idiot."

And they both smile at the same time, their breaths hitched and their chests pounding and their eyes fuzzy with the excitement of what has just happened (and most importantly, is yet to come).

10.** A night**

The first time they sleep together goes by in a blur of kisses, soft moans and tender caresses. He can't stop touching her, and she cannot either. They _grasp_ each other, they _feel_each other. And most importantly, they _love_ each other. They love in whispers, in kissing, in every single glance that one steals at the other. Every single smile means the entire bloody world to either of them._  
_

When they're lying on Robb's bed, covered by the intimacy of the thin covers, he quietly looks at her sleeping face. His fingers unconsciously run down her long black hair, and a small smile spreads across his face as he listen to a soft snort she makes in her sleep. He presses a light kiss to her forehead, his beardy chin brushing against her skin.

Just as he closes his eyes, he silently wishes for this to be the first of many, many nights together.

11. **A movie**

"Are you sure about this, Robb?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"I mean — there's no-one in here."

"I know."

"And?"

"And what?"

Talisa rolls her eyes and pulls him from his hand, making the young Political Sciences student sit down next to her on the cinema seat. He sits next to her, the popcorns bouncing up and down on his lap as he struggles to find a comfortable position.

"We've come to the most — how do you say that again, Robb?"

Robb sighs, rolling his eyes. "_Indie pop cool grunge_, I think."

Talisa shakes her head as she takes a handful of popcorns. "Please, _please_ don't ever ask Jon about movie places. Apparently he'll just shovel you into the most alternative one, and I wouldn't mind a seat that's not half-broken."

Robb chuckles, popping a popcorn into his mouth with a playful expression.

"Well, at least we're seeing a Wes Anderson movie." He mumbles as the credits start rolling in.

12. **A concert**

"I can't believe you brought me to a freaking Coldplay concert."

Robb does a lopsided grin as both of them stand in the middle of the crowd, only a few feet away from the stage. His arm is tightly wrapped around her shoulders, and they're both gazing up at the stage as the band delivers one of, though regretfully admitted by Robb, the most stunning live performances they have both seen.

"See? I love you and I do this kind of stuff for you." He smiles, rubbing his thumb against her shoulder. "Like — like a king would buy his queen a castle or something."

She smirks, her eyebrows rising. "Now, this is better than any castle I could have." She looks up at him and Robb finds her smiling broadly throughout what seems like a never-ending guitar riff.

He chuckles, rubbing his nose against hers. "If you say so, Ziggy Stardust."

_Luminiscent wire . . ._

Their lips meet and, once again, they are both smiling.

_We'll be glowing in the dark._

13. **A family in the North**

The first time that Talisa goes to meet Robb's family in Scotland the cold isn't the worst bit of the journey. They stay at his parents', where his mother seems to draw close to a heart attack upon learning that her baby son — who is just about to turn twenty-three, in fact — will be sleeping with her. It isn't that much of a surprise to his father, who nudges his son knowingly, causing the young man to blush lightly. His sister Sansa, twenty, seems nice enough to Talisa, but she isn't home all that much anyway. His little brothers, Bran and Rickon, ask her plenty of questions and remind Talisa of her own brother when he was their age. Bran is sixteen and wears the same big horn-rimmed glasses than Jon, while Rickon is eleven and seems to be more of a walking tantrum.

However, she does get to spend a lot of time with Arya. She's eighteen and studying Biology, so they both get along rather well. Robb observes their conversations with an amused smile, but says nothing.

A few hours before their train back to London leaves, Arya goes up to her older brother and taps his shoulder gently.

"Mhm?" he asks distractedly as he finishes helping his mother with the dishes. Talisa is somewhere with Rickon, who is showing her his Lego collection.

"I like her," states Arya, a firm expression on her face. "Take care of her, you dork."

When Robb glances back at her, a slight frown on his face, his little sister is gone.

14. **A fight**

He knocks.

"Talisa?"

No answer.

"C'mon, Tal, I'm sorry. I really — I didn't mean to say that. I know that we're almost done with uni, and God knows what's coming next. But really, love, I'm sorry." He silently wonders why the hell has he even suggested the idea of spending a year abroad. It's been tempting him lately, but he doesn't want to leave her. They've been together for almost two years now, and truth be told he feels as though he could be with her forever.

But still, she does not answer.

He sighs as he crouches down to the floor. He crosses his arms, leaning against her flat door. "I'm not gonna leave until you come outside and I can apologize properly." She still doesn't answer, but he knows she's listening to every single one of his words.

And, as every other mildly sane twenty-two-year-old would do in this sort of situation, he starts singing softly as he taps his fingers against the wooden door.

"_And so Sally can wait, she knows it's too late when she's walking on by . . ._"

He smiles when he hears how the doorknob starts turning slowly. He glances up only to find her standing at the doorway, eyes puffed and red and nose watery from what obviously has been a good hour of crying on her couch. To see her this way makes him feel sad himself, but he manages to stand up again and offer her a small song.

" _. . . But don't look back in anger, I heard you say._"

Her arms wrap around his neck so tightly and so acutely he wishes he never had to let go.

15. **A parting**

"So — we'll see each other in a year." She sighs, gazing down at her feet.

He has already checked in his bags and they are both standing a few feet away from the security point, where they will have to inevitably part ways. His hands are stuck deep inside his jeans' pockets, and he can see she's biting her lip. She does that a lot when she's worried.

He quietly lifts her chin with his index finger and looks at her with a saddened expression for a few moments. His thumb rubs against her jaw ever so lightly, and for a moment he wishes he could just freeze and stay with her there, forever. Eluding responsibilities, his future — _their_ future, because he was doing this for both of them. He would get to learn a few good things while working at the UN in New York, while she will be able to polish her medical skills in Berlin. They will end up meeting in London again — in a year, yes, but undoubtedly they will.

He leans in for one last kiss and he's awarded with three. Perhaps even more; he doesn't mind counting the endless kisses she always gives him.

16. **A computer**

He switches on his webcam and only a second later a broad smile appears on his face. Goddamn Skype feels like the best invention ever to him as he watches how Talisa waves at him from the other side of the globe.

"Hey, loser," he laughs, his eyebrows rising.

"Hi, idiot," she replies, rolling her eyes.

"How was your day? Did you get to saw off any feet? Perhaps an ear, or something like that." He takes a sip from his Darth Vader coffee mug as he observes her, a smile playing on his lips.

"No, unfortunately I didn't," sighs Talisa dramatically. "Did you get to solve the Ukrainian conflict, Mr. Stark?"

"Nope. Nope, I didn't. But I will sometime next week," he jokes. "But I did get asked once more if I'm Iron Man's Scottish cousin or something."

She scoffs, and he laughs a little bit more. It's five in the afternoon in New York, and it's nearly twelve in Berlin. And yet, they wouldn't change these precious moments they spare together each day for anything.

17. **A dance**

She's been in London for a few days and she has been invited to a friend's party. She's not too eager about it altogether, but she thinks it could be good fun anyway. It's still a month until Robb returns from New York and she's missing him more than ever, standing in the middle of the party all by herself. Had he been there, they would have laughed at the guy who had dropped his Coke all over the girl he was trying to hit on, or they would have complained about the fact that the DJ played nothing else but Lady Gaga at that moment. They might have left and just roamed the streets for the rest of the night, or the might have ended up at Robb's apartment.

But for the time being, she's all by herself.

She quietly observes the party as her ears catch the sound of a song that feels all too familiar to her. She recognizes the first chords almost immediately, and a faint smile sets upon her face. _Robb would have loved it here_, she thinks. But he's thousands of miles away, probably at some political meeting with a few other diplomats-in-the-training in which they will discuss the Sociopolitical History of the Western World and many other things that Robb always tells her about when they Skype together.

It is only when the song's lyrics begin that she realizes how much, how _bloody much_ she misses him.

She feels a tap on her shoulder and turns around to find the last person she would have expected to see.

"Hey, loser." Robb isn't good enough at hiding the broad grin on his face as their eyes meet face-to-face for the first time in a year. She just stares at him and says nothing, so he lowers his voice and adds, "I didn't want to stay there any longer. Fuck, it's not that I didn't want to — I couldn't. Had to come back. I'm sorry if — "

But he is cut off by Talisa cupping his face in her hands, pulling him closer to press her lips against his. It lasts for only a few seconds, but it feels like ages for both of them. It's been a year since they last kissed, and it seems as though everything they have done throughout the previous months has lead them to this.

A few minutes later, she places his forehead on his, her dark eyes meeting his, a clear blue.

"You — idiot — don't even _dare_ to leave this bloody city again."

A broad grin appears on his face as he shakes his head, his forehead still against hers. "I wasn't planning to, Ziggy Stardust."

_But don't look back in anger, I heard you say._

18. **A loss**

He learns about his father's death only a few days later. He's sitting on the couch all by himself — he has already seen Jon and the three of them will be catching the next train to Edinburgh. She observes him from the kitchen, not knowing what to do or say. He's been sitting there all morning, his eyes fixed onto a little picture of him and his family when little Rickon was born. He must have been around twelve that time around, but he still has the same reddish curls and clear blue eyes.

He resembles his mother physically, but his brave, loyal nature comes entirely from his father. A father who is now gone and has left Robb emptier than ever before.

She silently makes her way to the couch and sits next to him, observing the face of her nearly four-years' boyfriend with a saddened expression. She strokes his hair gently, and he closes his eyes. Knowing him, he's probably holding back the tears. He's too self-proud to stumble and fall like that, not even in front of the person he loves the most.

Talisa leans forward and quietly presses a kiss to his temple. She then whispers, her nose against his cheek, "He must feel really proud wherever he is. He has got the best son one could ever wish for."

It is then when Robb starts crying.

19. **A wonder**

They're sitting together on the couch, watching the newest episode of BBC Sherlock. She's cuddled into a ball, her head on his chest as she attentively watches the television. His feet are resting on the coffee table, his Star Wars socks visible from a notorious distance.

"Molly and Sherlock would be cute together," she yawns, her eyes still fixed on the television screen.

Robb's eyebrows rise. "What? Sherlock? But he's like — he couldn't care less about girls. Or boys. Or whatever, really, he's the bloody Sherlock Holmes."_  
_

"Hmm. I still think they'd be cute as a couple," shrugs the girl.

They both remain in silence for a few moments, Robb sighing only a bit too loudly. A question had been itching at the back of his head for the entire day, and he simply couldn't get out of his head. A little later, he thinks it's just worth the try.

"Hey, Tal."

"Mm-hm?"

"I've been thinking about something lately."

"Really? What is it?"

He pauses for a moment before whispering, "Wouldn't it be nice to get married?"

Talisa doesn't seem to react as excitedly as he would have expected. "Well, yeah, that'd be nice." She pops another popcorn into her mouth, attentively watching how Sherlock and John travel across the entire city of London to get their hands on yet another serial murderer.

"Yeah. Nice." He mumbles, shaking his head. _You must have sounded like the most goddamn idiot on Earth, Robb Stark. _He shuffles on the couch quietly, watching the screen rather uninterestedly.

It is not until a couple of minutes later that Talisa finally seems to realize what has just happened. She looks up at him, a slight frown on her face. "Were you — were you serious about that?"

Robb frowns, shaking his head. "No, really, I was just being dumb — "

"Robb Stark," she says firmly as she switches the TV off. She sits up and eyes him carefully, her lips slightly pursed. "I'm dead serious here — did you really mean that whole getting married thing?"

He remains quiet for a few moments, averting his eyes. He finally sighs and nods. "Yes. Yeah, I suppose I kind of did. I've been thinking of that for a while now. So I thought — yeah, I thought we could get married. Like, someday. It doesn't have to be soon or anything." He looks up only to find a broad grin spread across her face, and he can't help but feel how his cheeks blush ever so lightly. "What?"

"You know," she says in a low tone, a playful smile on her face. "This might be the lamest marriage proposal I've ever seen."

"Take it or leave it," he mumbles, crossing his arms.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, and leans a little closer towards him.

"I think I'll take it, Mr. Stark."

And they kiss, as David Bowie would say, as though nothing can fall.

20. **A gift**

He feels a tap on his shoulder as he finishes reading a Daily Telegraph article on a recently discovered play that could have been written by Shakespeare in his early days. He turns around to find his wife smiling lightly at him, with a plate of pancakes in her hands. He's still in his boxers and a white shirt, and she's still in her pyjamas.

"Whoa, how come I get pancakes today?" he smiles.

"I don't know, I just felt like doing them." A smile plays on her lips as she places the plate on the little living room table. "Happy Father's day."

"Oh. Yeah, it's Father's day today." Robb nods, smiling, as he distractedly glances at the calendar. It's been ages since he last celebrated Father's day — not after his Dad died, anyway. However, it takes a few moments before Talisa's words actually sink in. He furrows his brow lightly, looking at her. "Wait. What. I'm not a Father." His frown deepens, an odd smile trying to make its way across his face. "Oh, God. You — you're — are you?"

Talisa nods quickly, biting her lip in a nervous expression. Robb's slight smile immediately becomes a wholehearted grin, and he immediately puts down the newspaper and places his hand on her cheek. "Oh my God, I'm going to be a Dad!" He places a kiss to her forehead, then to her nose, then to her lips. He cannot stop grinning, nor does he wish to. At the time being, he just wants to relish on the complete and utter joy of the idea of being the father of Talisa's child.

"I love you," he breathes, grinning from ear to ear. "I love you, I love you, I love you. And I will love the little fella just as much."

Talisa smiles. "No naming him or her Ziggy Stardust, okay?"

He laughs, louder and happier than ever before. "Poignant, my dear."

And they both laugh together, like nothing else matters at the moment.

21. **A kick**

"Look, Robb, the baby's kicking again."

It takes Robb around two seconds to drop the frying pan and dash towards the couch, where Talisa is sitting with her hand over her swollen belly. He almost immediately places his hand on the same position, feeling how his little, growing son kicks Talisa's womb. A smile settles on his lips almost immediately.

"The fella seems bored, doesn't he?" he chuckles, stroking her abdomen gently. He presses a kiss to her belly button and grins, glancing up at her with a rather goofy expression. "God, he won't stop kicking."

"A tough one he'll be, this little Eddard Stark." She bites her lip, smiling at that last bit. They haven't talked about any baby names yet, but she's been thinking about it for quite a while ago now.

His eyebrows rise in surprise. "What? Eddard?" She nods quietly and his grin can do nothing else but broaden. His hand gently moves up to her cheek, stroking it with the most tender of expressions on his face, his eyes nearly glistening with happiness. "I love you. I love you so fucking much you just don't know."

And he kisses her yet again, like every single day for the last four years, and yet still feeling that itchy happiness at the bottom of his stomach that he had first felt so long ago.

22. **A word**

"Gaa."

"Tal! Talisa, I'm pretty sure he just said Pa!"

"I'm sure he didn't, Robb."

"No, but really!" Robb picked his baby son up from the floor and placed him on his lap, tickling little Ned's stomach lightly. "C'mon, say it again! Don't you wanna call your papa, Ned? C'mon, Neddy, you're the smartest baby ever. Mama listened to David Bowie all throughout her pregnancy."

"Well, he does have Ziggy Stardust's red hair, doesn't he?" chuckles Talisa, walking up to them from the bedroom, where she has just changed little Ned's diapers. She takes a seat next to Robb and coos at Ned with a huge smile on her face. "Here's Mooommy, Ned! Come on, who am I?"

Ned seems to hesitate for a moment, before gurgling out, "Daaaaa!"

Robb whoops, carefully hugging the eight-month-old to his chest. "See? He said Da, which sounds like Dadda, which means Dad! I win!"

"Or perhaps it could mean that our son is, in fact, a Russian spy and is trying to say 'yes'," replies Talisa, rolling her eyes.

Robb frowns, carefully stroking Ned's short, still thin crisps of red hair. "You're just jealous," he mumbles. He's about to give his little son a kiss on the back of his head, but the baby seems to decide that it would be nicer to slap his dad on the cheek with his little, rosy hand, rubbing it thoroughly against his reddish beard.

"Maaaa!" he shrieks, giggling happily.

Talisa grins and sticks her tongue out at Robb, laughing softly. "See? I win!"

Robb rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "You women and babies must have some scheme planned against us."

"Well, at least it wasn't me who had a panic attack in the middle of the delivery," chuckles Talisa, remembering how her husband had gone through a panicky fit when his son was almost there, having needed Jon's help to calm him down.

Robb scoffs again, still cradling Ned in his arms. "Well, yeah, whatever."

"Baaa!" shrieks Ned.

Talisa chuckles to herself yet again, and Robb cannot help but smile only a little more.

23. **A promise**

They're both watching how little Ned sleeps in his cradle, in the room right next to theirs. Robb is resting his chin on Talisa's shoulder, his arms around her waist and a proud smile on his face. She's smiling, too — tired, yet extremely happy.

"He's so lovely," she whispers. "The loveliest thing on Earth, I'd say."

"Hmm," nods Robb quietly. "I do know someone who would be a good runner-up." He lazily presses a kiss to her cheek, smiling lightly. He brushes his nose against her cheek. "You know what? I bet Ned would love having a little sibling to play with."

Talisa's eyebrows rise. "I just got out of nine months of vomiting, backache and bad mood. Do you _really_ want to spend another nine months trashing away every single plum that might come into this house and making me smoked salmon?" Upon Robb's silence, she laughs quietly. "It's still an option, nevertheless. Someday, you know."

Robb's eyebrows rise, but he says nothing. They just stand there, quietly observing their son and reminiscing every single day that has led them up to this moment; from the party they both casually attended to seven years ago to the year they both spend abroad and how they met again at another party. Robb chuckles while remembering Arya's first thoughts on Talisa, and she does the same as she reminds herself of how he used to joke through Skype about his job in New York. She instinctively places her hand over his, which is still tightly wrapped around her middle.

"Robb," she whispers, looking up at him.

"Mm-hm?"

"I really love you. I really, really do."

He smiles. "And I love you too. I have for ages now, and always will."

"I wish we could stay like this forever," she muses. "Ned, you and I. Perhaps a little brother or sister for him. Being a family forever, as a little girl would say." She smiles sheepishly. "

He offers her a lopsided grin, feeling utterly fascinated by her dark brown eyes even after all these years. He presses a kiss to her cheek and nods.

"Forever sounds all right to me, Ziggy Stardust."

And so forever it is.


End file.
